DS al Fine
by chisscientist
Summary: After the War of Wrath and the drowning of Beleriand, Eru decides he's had enough. He fishes a newly-dead Maedhros out of the void, gives him a stern talking-to, and sends his fea back in time to fix his mistakes - and to save them all, if he can. AU
1. Not What I Expected

**Disclaimer:  
** The _Silmarillion_ , _HoME_ , and _the Book of Unfinished Tales_ belong to JRR Tolkien. I am not JRR Tolkien. Therefore, anything you recognize from those sources belongs to him, and not to me.

* * *

Maedhros hadn't been sure what to expect from death. He'd assumed he'd either find Namo glaring down his nose at him, or that the 'everlasting darkness' would turn out to be an end to his existence. He'd been hoping for the latter, in all honesty.

Instead, there was light, and lots of it. Nothing but light. Then a still, small, voice that didn't need to be loud to have his entire attention.

"Nelyafinwe Maitimo Maedhros Russandol," it said.

"Yes, my Lord?" said Maedhros. It was probably Lord Namo, and being polite couldn't hurt.

"Nay, child, I am not one of your Valar. I am Eru. You are in the Timeless Halls," Eru said.

"Oh," said Maedhros, feeling very small. Why was this happening to him, of all people? After everything he'd done. Eru was surely furious with him, if he cared about him at all.

"Do you regret taking the Oath of Feanor, and your actions in its pursuit?" asked Eru.

"Yes," said Maedhros quietly. The whole business had been hopeless from the start, and had brought his family nothing but ruin. Even the Silmarils had rejected them in the end.

"Then you have a choice. You can cease to exist, as you were hoping when I brought you here. You can report to Namo for judgement. Or, you can go back and do things differently this time round."

"I don't understand," said Maedhros. "How is that possible? Once part of the music has been played, surely it cannot be played again. Beyond that, I have always been told our fates are set out in the music before we are ever born."

"You are familiar with the musical term DS al fine?" asked Eru.

"I have Maglor as a brother," snapped Maedhros. "It means go back to the sign, and from then to the end." _From then to the end?_

"Exactly," said Eru. "The music has a potential repeat with second ending here. What would you do differently, if you could?"

"Not swear that – The Oath," said Maedhros. "Not rely on Caranthir's judgement of Ulfang and his sons. Not kill any elf over the Silmarils. Not trust Father to go back for Fingon and Fingolfin, or to behave rationally after he loses Grandfather and the Silmarils. Not attempt to treat with Morgoth to retrieve a Silmaril, then get my people killed, and myself captured for use as a hostage. Try to talk Maglor and Pityo at least out of taking the Oath."

"Do you want to do this, then?" asked Eru.

Maedhros hesitated. Would he be strong enough to resist his father's madness on that terrible night? Could he endure all that grief and pain over again, knowing what was to happen? The darkness seemed to beckon. It would be easier. But when had he ever refused to undertake a task because it was hard? This was his mess to right, if he could.

"Why are you offering me this?"

"Because I am not fully in agreement with the Valar's actions – though that does NOT mean I support yours, or Feanor's, let alone Melkor's. Know this: I never held you to your Oath. I would rather that you had broken it, than that you allowed yourself to become a mass murderer in an attempt to fulfill an Oath you should never have sworn." Eru let that sink in for a few moments.

If Maedhros could have wept, he would. It had really been so easy? All he'd needed was trust? "Why didn't you tell me?" he screamed. "I wanted to stop, but I was too damn scared I'd doom my entire family to eternal darkness if I gave up on that bloody Oath! Why didn't someone tell me?"

"Maglor tried to tell you. You knew in your heart that he was right. You let your fears drive you into evil and madness, until you slew yourself in despair."

Maedhros floated silent in the light. "But…" he began slowly. "Surely someone was holding us to it? I could feel it tugging at my mind, whispering in my heart. Did Manwe and Varda…"

"None of you asked them for release. Yet Namo has not cast your father or your brothers into the eternal darkness. Your dead kin are in Mandos."

"Then whose was the voice?" asked Maedhros.

"Can you not recognize Morgoth's voice, you who suffered so much at his hands?"

Maedhros' mind ground to a halt. He had been manipulated by the one against whom he had taken the Oath in the first place? Maedhros discovered that hysterical sobs were entirely possible after all. After an unknown time, though surely that was meaningless in the Timeless Halls, he calmed, though he still felt both sad and terribly empty.

The voice spoke up again. "I am also doing this because I love you. I know you regret your actions that harmed so many of my children, yourself not least among them. I do not like to see any child of mine destroy himself."

"How can you love me? I've become a monster as bad as the orcs." said Maedhros.

"I love you, and I always will."

"I don't understand."

"You do not have to. Only know that it is so. Will you go, and undo the evil you have done?"

"I will go, my Lord," said Maedhros. "And I will try with all I am to make things better this time."

"Just do your best," said Eru, "and my blessings will go with you."

"Thank you," Maedhros whispered.

* * *

A/N 2: Yes, this is a 'go back in time to before the Darkening to attempt to fix things' story that stars a son of Feanor whose name begins with M. It will be longer than most of my stories. Beyond that, it should be pretty different from Kenobi Skywalkers' _Duplicity_. That's an interesting story, by the way. I hope they continue it.


	2. From the Repeat

**Chapter Two: From the Repeat, Taking the Second Ending**

Maedhros came to awareness slowly, blinking bleary eyes open to see his room in Formenos. It was lit by the gentle silver twilight of Telperien. Surely he must be dreaming… but then he remembered his strange conversation with Eru. His head hurt, and he felt strange. He raised a hand to his head, wondering what had happened to it.

"Oh, thank Eru, you're awake," said Maglor's voice.

Maedhros turned his head to see his younger brother, the only one who had remained with him to the end. And stared in shock. Maglor looked so young and innocent. No sorrow past the edge of bearing darkened his eyes. Makalaure. He wasn't Maglor yet. And perhaps, Makalaure never would be. Assuming Maedhros didn't manage to wreck this chance, too.

Makalaure shifted uncomfortably under his brother's gaze, saying "I'd better tell Healer Carniel you're awake. We've all been worried stiff about you."

"What happened?" croaked Maedhros, reaching out to grasp Makalaure's arm to reassure himself his brother was actually there before he could disappear in search of the healer. Makalaure blinked at it, but didn't try to shake him off.

"We were hoping you'd be able to tell us what happened," Makalaure said. "Curufinwe found you lying on the floor in the library three hours ago. You've been unconscious ever since."

"I don't know," said Maedhros. "I must have hit my head."

"It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" asked Carniel, who was now standing in the doorway.

Maedhros blinked at her. "Headache, but I'm fine," he said slowly, releasing Makalaure's arm to push himself up. The world swam.

"Don't lie to the healer, you silly fool," said Makalaure, poking him. "Your eyes are out of focus, and you can't even sit up properly."

Maedhros glared at his brother, but gave it up as a bad job when his elbow gave out, and he landed flat on the bed again. His right arm… he had two hands! He lifted his hands and stared at his right in shock. Two hands. Gingerly, he touched his right with his left. It was really there.

He looked up to find his brother and the healer staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. _No, just a decidedly not-extra hand._ He'd presumably lost all his scars, too, and was back to being Maitimo, the well-formed-one, again. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to take it all in, yet all too aware he was behaving strangely.

"Stay with us, child," said Carniel.

Maedhros opened his eyes and glared at her, thinking _child indeed_. He'd bet she'd never killed anyone in her life. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she demanded.

"Two," said Maedhros. He wasn't that badly hurt. He'd been hurt far worse more than once, and he had the usual interrogation down pat.

"What is your name?"

"Maedh-timo," he said, realizing that he'd better pay attention or he could mess up royally.

"Ok. What is the date?"

Maedhros had no idea, beyond 'after Father got exiled, but before the Trees died'. He started to shake his head, then stopped, wincing at the sudden pain spike. Maybe he'd better play up this injury, rather than playing it down. Better that they think him concussed than mad. He squeezed his eyes shut, and let his head rest against the pillow.

"You've a headache, I take it?"

Maedhros said nothing, letting his body relax, and the voices recede a little.

"I don't like how he keeps blurring in and out," said Carniel. "I wish Master Tatnis was here. This could be more than a simple concussion. Did he tell you how he came to fall?"

"He said he thinks he hit his head, but I don't think he knows on what or why."

"Has he ever had any unexplained falls, fits, or losses of consciousness before?"

"Not that I know of, although I heard that he got pretty clumsy when he was growing fastest." said Makalaure. "It's too bad that father isn't here to ask. You could try asking grandfather Finwe." Makalaure took Maedhros' hand and squeezed it gently.

 _Father is gone, we're already at Formenos... that means the Trees haven't got much longer to live. Can I prevent that? How? When am I, exactly? Not having people think I'm mad be hanged, I need to know!_ Maedhros opened his eyes. "How long has father been gone?" he asked.

"You don't remember."

"No."

"He's been gone for four days."

"Oh." No way to catch up with him. "How long until the festival?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Maedhros was silent a moment, trying to remember back the required centuries. "Manwe's messenger coming to summon Father to the festival?"

"That was months ago!" yelped Makalaure in dismay.

Maedhros winced at the high pitch his brother had hit, and closed his eyes again.

"Some memory loss is common with a concussion like this," said Carniel. "It should improve in the days ahead."

"Will he be all right?" asked Makalaure.

"Provided this is no worse than it seems. Someone should stay with him at all times, and we need to wake him at intervals of at least every half hour. There is nothing wrong with his skull, but we need to make sure he's merely asleep rather than unconscious. He's probably going to be sleeping a lot over the next few days."

His brothers insisted on sitting up with him for the rest of the hours of Telperien. Maedhros put up with it because they were worried, and because it meant he would get to see them as they were before everything fell apart. It had been so long… only a few yeni, but it felt like a lifetime. He kept seeing their faces overlain with them as they had been, dead. Feeling overwhelmed and embarrassingly over-emotional, Maedhros hid his face in the pillow. Hopefully he'd be better able to cope in the morning. He fell asleep.

 _The light was blinding, and the pain overwhelming. Maedhros stumbled forward, his hand clenched around the silmaril, glowing blood-red as the light and heat seared right through it. He'd failed. Even the silmaril hated him now. He began to run. Not any direction in particular. Just away, away from pain, away from failure, away from those who hated him, away from himself._

 _Suddenly, a great fissure in the earth opened before him. He stopped, panting. The pain was still with him, and all his many failures, the despicable thing he'd become. He looked down. Far below, molten rock glowed dimly. Two more steps, and it would all be over. He jumped._

 _The wind was shaking his shoulder, and he could hear Maglor screaming his name. Wait a minute, that's not Maglor, that's Caranthir. What's he doing here?_ Maedhros jerked awake, flinching and raising his arm to protect his head, as he opened his eyes. _What the… treelight?_

"Oh good, you're awake," said Carnistir's shade – no, no, it was live Carnistir. His brother was still alive, as witnessed by his firm grip on Maedhros' shoulder.

"Thanks for waking me," said Maedhros, as his heart rate began to slow back down. "Nightmare."

"That was one hell of a nightmare." said Carnistir.

"Yes," said Maedhros.

His brother looked at him oddly, but shrugged and left it at that.


	3. Those Stubborn Finweans

The next morning, Maedhros was feeling much better. Ambarto was asleep, his head pillowed on the back of his chair. Maedhros smiled at the sight as he got out of bed to use the toilet and have a wash. Moving quietly about his morning tasks, he caught sight of his own face in the mirror.

Good grief he looked young without the scars and pain lines. His eyes, on the other hand, didn't. He wondered how long it would be before someone realized that there was more than a concussion different about him. That someone would probably be Makalaure: he was too perceptive for his own good when he bothered to pay attention.

Maedhros had better think of an explanation fast: for that, the nightmares, and most of all the knowledge of a future that hopefully wouldn't happen quite the same way this time. How long until the festival? Was it today, tomorrow? He couldn't remember, but either way he had precious little time before events would spiral beyond anyone's control. He must convince the others to send word to the Valar, and to leave Formenos and scatter, and he had to have a reason for him to know what he did.

The obvious explanation was visions of the future, but he'd never had those. Finrod yes, Galadriel yes, Feanaro yes, even Fingon and little Elrond on occasion, but he'd never had more than blurred dreams and the odd hunch.

A really intense vision cascade that caused him to fall down and hit his head was still probably the best explanation. Maedhros snorted. Having over 500 years of your life shoved into your head at once counted as really intense if anything ever did.

Ambarto stirred, his thumb moving closer to his mouth. Maedhros smiled. His brother really did look like a child right now. Maedhros was tempted to sneak down the hall and retrieve Ambarto's old stuffed horse to tuck in with him. The boy would be mortified. Maedhros froze. This brother would be dead in a matter of months unless he managed to change things. _Not if I can help it. The fire will not have this youngest and most innocent of my brothers._

He swallowed, and left his brother to sleep. He headed down the stairs towards the enticing smell of breakfast. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd arrived in this time.

"Hello Nelyo," said Finwe as Maedhros entered the room. "You're looking much better than you did yesterday."

"I'm feeling much better, grandfather." said Maedhros. Then he felt the blood drain from his face. Finwe would die tonight, his head caved in by Morgoth's mace.

"On second thought, you don't look that much better. Sit down before you fall down," said Finwe, taking Maedhros' arm and pushing him into a chair. "What is the matter?"

"I… can we maybe keep our festival away from Formenos?" asked Maedhros.

"Why?" asked Finwe.

Maedhros took all his courage and plunged in. "Because I saw Melkor and a monstrous spider attack Formenos tonight. When I fell and hit my head. I'm fairly sure it was a vision."

Finwe's eyebrows rose. "That's sudden. Have you ever had visions before?"

"Not clear ones," said Maedhros. "But I seem to have gotten hit with an entire cascade yesterday."

"No," said Finwe. "That's not the way the Sight develops. It happens slowly, starting with simple hunches, moving into fuzzy dream-visions, and then clear ones. Vision cascades are very rare, and they only happen to powerful Seers who've been having clear visions for centuries. I ought to know. Indis, Earwen, and your father and I have visions, and none of us has ever had that happen."

"Artanis has."

"Has she? But you prove my point. She's been having clear visions since she was a child."

 _Then I guess Elrond was being abnormal again, that time Maglor found him sitting on the floor, surrounded by spilled flour, and babbling about a winged ship fighting flying dragons._ _Wonderful._ "It is, nevertheless, what happened. Could something have been blocking them?" said Maedhros.

"I doubt it, child. Still…" Finwe frowned, looking away towards the north. "I also have a bad feeling about tonight." He nodded suddenly, turning back to look at Maedhros. "I'll make sure no one leaves Formenos, and that the walls are guarded."

"No!" cried Maedhros. "They're coming here, and the walls won't be able to stop them! We have to get away from here, and scatter so Melkor can't find you. You and the silmarils are his target, but he thinks you're here, so this is where he's going to go. If you aren't here, and he's got a hundred different elf-trails to follow, he won't find you. We can hide the silmarils in three different places. That way, even if he finds one, he won't get all of them."

"I'm no coward, to run and hide in the woods when we've got good thick walls and strong arms to stop him. And what will Feanaro say when he finds out we've let Melkor wreck his fortress, and steal most of his creations? For that matter, do you have the key to the treasure chamber?

"No," said Maedhros in dawning horror. "You don't either?"

Finwe nodded.

"What about Curufinwe?" demanded Maedhros.

"I think my son took it with him."

"Namo's bloody Dooms." snarled Maedhros, his hands absently curling into fists. He hadn't even taken any Oath and STILL the silmarils were messing up his options!

Finwe gawked at him. "There's no need for sacrilege. What if he takes offense?"

Maedhros took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. "Sorry Grandfather, Lord Namo." said Maedhros. Though really, if anyone had reason to know Namo's expletively-unmentionable Dooms inside and out, it was him. "I'll speak to Curufinwe, and see if he can get into the treasure chamber."

"We will stay here." said Finwe. "We must send the Valar for help, though. Tyelkormo's pigeons can take the message."

"They can't fly high enough to reach Manwe on Taniquetil, but they might reach some of the revellers on the slopes," said Maedhros. "That's a good idea, and we'll do it, but we need to assume it will not get to Manwe in time. We still need to leave this place." Maedhros suddenly realized they'd attracted quite the audience. "Curvo, can you get into Father's treasure chamber?"

"I don't have the key"- Curvo began, but Finwe spoke over him.

"Maitimo, I appreciate your concern," Finwe gave his eldest grandson a stern look. "But I am in charge here, and you have a head injury. That means you are going to eat your breakfast and go rest while I deal with this." Maedhros blinked at him in surprise. It had been a long time indeed since he'd deferred to anyone else, and he'd clean forgotten he wasn't in charge. The trouble was, Finwe's plan was likely to get them all killed.

"Melkor is going to break the gates and kill you," said Maedhros.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, child," said Finwe. "Now eat."

"When the treelight goes dark at mingling tonight, remember what I have said," said Maedhros.

"Eat and be silent, or must I spoon-feed you like a babe in arms?" said Finwe, putting two slices of bread on his plate, and glaring at his grandson.

Maedhros glowered, but bent his head and picked out some butter and jam to put on it. Finwe watched until he took the first bite.

Finwe turned to the others: "Tyelkormo, how many pigeons do you have that are able to reach the slopes of Taniquetil?"

"Two, but I can send a couple more that might be able to find it if I explain very, very, clearly, and tell them to look for Nolofinwe's banner."

"Send all four of them. The message is for Manwe: we have had a vision of Melkor attacking Formenos during the festival. We will defend ourselves if attacked, but could use help, and this offers an opportunity for them to trap Melkor." Finwe gestured to the door. "Now go." Tyelkormo went.

Finwe turned to the others. "The rest of you, to breakfast. We'll organize the defense afterwards."

The rest of the family sat down and began to eat, most of them shooting sidelong glances at Finwe and Maedhros from time to time.

Maedhros picked at his breakfast, finding himself now feeling queasy and not very hungry. He also had a pounding headache again. At least he'd managed to get a message sent off, if nothing else. But with the Darkness on the way, he wondered if the birds would find Taniquetil at all. He might yet convince the others to abandon the fort and scatter once the treelight went out.

Was there any other way to protect his family, and their people here? Traps to stop Morgoth and Ungoliant… he'd never actually seen the spider, but the tracks she'd left suggested she could probably reach the top of the curtain wall from the ground. The gate had probably been a tight squeeze for her to get through. What if they barricaded it with everything they could find, not just the iron bars? Arrgh, his head felt like it had an iron bar wrapped round it that was being slowly tightened.

Wouldn't the spider just climb over the wall, taking Melkor with her – assuming the Vala didn't just abandon physical form or shift it temporarily to something that could fly? How tall was the curtain wall? And providing too thorough a barricade would trap the defenders inside with Melkor and Ungoliant when Melkor and Ungoliant did get inside.

Pitfall trap… it would take too long to dig one big enough for Ungoliant, although if Melkor trod in one it could give him a bad day. It would likely make him angry and fail to keep him out. There wasn't a handy mountain slope right beneath the castle the way there was at Himring for a deadfall trap, and a paved road did not lend itself to hidden stakes or caltrops. He was pretty certain Curufinwe hadn't invented the latter yet, either.

What about using the buildings next to the road and the curtain wall itself over the gate as improvised cliffs to drop objects off of? Not just a few rocks, but maybe a large hammock filled with rocks that could be dropped at the swing of a sword in the dark? They would have to set that up now, and he wasn't really in a fit state to do it. He needed Curufinwe and Tyelkormo, which meant he had to catch Curufinwe just as he was leaving the room.

"What is it?" asked Curufinwe irritably. "I'm busy."

"How would you and Tyelko like to build a trap over the gate for Moringotto and his giant spider friend?"

Curufinwe hesitated. "Grandfather's given me a raft of things to organize already," he said, before his curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of trap did you have in mind?"

"It is much like an altered deadfall trap, using a heavy canvas and rope sling to hold rocks, bricks, and any other heavy objects we have available," said Maedhros. "A single swing of a sword will bring the whole thing down on their heads, and should do more damage than dropping individual rocks." _And be more likely to actually happen under the effects of the Unlight._

Curufinwe rubbed his mouth, frowning. "It is an interesting idea, certainly. And a nasty one." He gave his brother a disturbed glance, then smirked. "Tell me more." He commanded.

Maedhros obliged, his mouth twitching. Then he obeyed his grandfather and went to rest. But he was going to do so out in the treelight in the gardens, and not in his bedroom. No sense in forgoing the last treelight the world would ever see outside a silmaril.

Makalaure gave him an odd look as he settled his pillow and cloak more comfortably on the grass. "Tyelko's normally the one who wants to live outdoors. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?"

"I like it here," said Maedhros, and closed his eyes. The treelight might be precious and about to be lost forever, but it wasn't helping his headache any.

Makalaure leaned back against the tree as he fletched arrows. He wasn't sure how much use they'd be against a Vala, if Maitimo was right. Scattering in all directions might well be a better option than trying to fight, at least when it came to keeping them all alive. But they could hardly leave the silmarils unguarded. Father would never forgive them if Melkor stole his greatest creations on their watch, and they didn't even try to defend them. And the Valar would come. They wouldn't have to hold out long.

If Maitimo was right. His brother had been decidedly strange ever since he'd woken from his mishap the previous day. Carnistir said he'd been having nightmares last night. Perhaps this was all this was, and nothing at all would happen tonight.

A/N: Quenya Names

Canafinwe Makalaure = Maglor

Morifinwe Carnistir = Caranthir

Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol = Maedhros

Turkafinwe Tyelkormo = Celegorm

Curufinwe Feanaro = Feanor

Curufinwe Atarinke = Curufin

Pityafinwe Ambarto/Umbarto = Amrod

Telufinwe Ambarussa = Amras

Tyelpinquar = Celebrimbor

Artanis Nerwen = Galadriel


	4. The Darkening of Valinor

That afternoon, Maedhros was back in his room, checking over what he could make ready for tonight. The gate trap was done, if not as large as he had hoped for. He'd packed a bag with provisions and a first aid kit for if they ran, and his sword and armor were ready for use. He had been informed that if there was fighting to be done, he wouldn't be doing any of it. Ha! He'd like to see Finwe try and stop him. There was nothing left to do but wait. At least his brothers no longer felt the need to watch over him every second. He took a nap.

Maedhros lingered by the window after waking up, watching the sky, for a few minutes, then sighed and went to get ready. He girded on his gambeson and the rest of his armor, as well as his sword, little help though they were likely to be. He wasn't Fingolfin, to try and kill Morgoth – especially not when Morgoth was accompanied by a treelight-swollen Ungoliant. He wasn't suicidal… well, not today, at least.

The armor felt a little odd, and yet entirely familiar. His mind hadn't worn this armor since he'd been captured by Morgoth, while his body had probably practiced sparring in it earlier that week. He also realized he'd belted his sword on the right side of his body, ready to be drawn with his left. What would his reflexes be like right now?

He drew the sword, and went through a pattern of simple moves in each hand. Both were adequate, but right was just a little better. He then did the same with the most useful moves he'd picked up in Beleriand. His left was much better than his right. It would be bad to use one of favorite moves and completely mess it up. Left it was then, so… oh. His shield straps were set for the shield to be used on his left arm. He spent a few minutes fixing that. He looked outside. It was now near to mingling. Maedhros settled his bag on his back, and took his shield in his right hand as he went downstairs.

He came down the stairs, clattering slightly. Tyelkormo greeted him at the bottom, also fully dressed in armor. "I thought you weren't to be fighting," said Tyelkormo.

"Oh, I won't unless I'm needed," said Maedhros. "But I don't fancy being unarmed and unarmored right now. Could you help me with the last few straps?"

"You get to explain the armor to Grandfather," said Tyelkormo. "I have a couple of things that need tying, too." They quickly fixed the last fastenings.

"Do you know where Grandfather is?" Maedhros asked.

"I think he is outside," said Tyelkormo.

"Thanks," said Maedhros as he snagged a bread roll on his way out the door. Having two hands again was wonderful.

He found Finwe in the courtyard, heading for the stairs to the top of the curtain wall. "Come up to the top of the wall with me," Finwe said. "What was it you were saying this morning about about darkness falling?"

They went up on the castle walls, and stood looking out over the town and the countryside beyond. All was fair and peaceful. The birds were singing, and crickets were chirping, although the treefrogs hadn't started up yet. A sweet-scented breeze blew from the south.

"First Laurelin will fail, then Telperien," said Maedhros. "It should become blindingly obvious soon. Within half an hour, the stars will be visible."

"We shall wait, and see if your vision be true," said Finwe. "Curufinwe tells me that the thing over the gate was your idea. What made you think of it?" He frowned. "Why have you switched your sword and shield arms? Your first real fight is not a good time to be practicing with your off-hand. Change it back."

Maedhros hesitated. "I've done some practice you haven't seen with my left. It is now a bit better than my right."

Finwe blinked, then shrugged. "I won't order you to change, then. Just remember that the lives of your brothers may depend on you if things go wrong." He looked south.

So did Maedhros. Was Laurelin dimming faster than normal? It was difficult to tell.

They waited, and waited. It got darker, and the treefrogs began to sing. They waited. It became darker still, and they could hear worried murmurs as others began to notice something odd. Finally, Finwe turned to Maedhros. "It seems you are right."

"Melkor won't be alone. We can't fight them-" Maedhros began.

"Get everyone inside the curtain wall," Finwe called to Makalaure at the gate.

Maedhros' hands clenched into fists as he fought the desire to shake Finwe until his armor rattled. Damn his family's bull-headedness!

Makalaure nodded, and called out loud and clear: "Everyone inside the gates. Bring your arms and armor if you have them."

"Curufinwe, get the torches lit," called Finwe. The first torch flared alight.

"What's happening?" demanded one of the guards.

"There is something wrong with the Trees. Get everyone inside," said Finwe.

Very soon, the sky was pitch-black, with a sprinkling of stars. Torches lit the courtyard, illuminating worried faces turned to Finwe.

"Friends, kinsmen, my people, I have reason to believe that there may be an attack on the settlement by Melkor tonight," said Finwe, without preamble. "We are prepared, and have already informed the Valar. They will be on their way soon, but we may have to hold out for a little while."

Murmurs of alarm sprang up, then died away as Finwe held up his hand. "We are prepared. This is not Cuvienen: we have strong walls to defend us, flights of arrows, and swords and armor of steel. We will hold firm, and if Melkor tries to harm us, he's going to get a nasty surprise."

Some people cheered, notably Tyelkormo and Curufinwe.

Maedhros ground his teeth. A fat lot of use Finwe's sword had proven last time, and Maedhros had little faith their trap would do more than annoy Morgoth. All Maedhros had managed to do so far was make things even worse! Why had Eru sent him back, if everything he touched was forever doomed to turn to dust?

"I want the women, excepting those of the militia, and the children, to take shelter in the caves at the back. Third company will guard them. Melkor's most likely target is the silmarils in the treasure chamber. First company, man the keep. Second company, to the curtain wall. Captain Curelda, I want you over the gate, ready to drop rocks on Melkor's head."

Finwe left Maedhros on the wall, keeping watch for Morgoth's arrival. He seemed disinclined to listen to anything his grandson said with regards to Morgoth or Ungoliant. So Maedhros grew silent, waiting for the Unlight to arrive, and wishing he dared hope that someone had found one of Tyelko's birds and brought the message to Manwe in time.

A/N: Fanr, I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and thanks for the feedback. I won't tell you how the story ends, but I can say that Maedhros' efforts will cause noticeable changes to the plot. He will be overjoyed at some of the changes, and alarmed by others.


	5. On the Slopes of Taniquetil

Meanwhile, on the slopes of Taniquetil, Findekano stood beneath the stars. He watched the strange impenetrable gloom that shrouded the lands below, and shivered. He wrapped his thin festival cloak more tightly around him against the cool breeze Manwe had called up to blow the gloom away.

He didn't understand Melkor at all. Why anybody would destroy something as beautiful as the Two Trees… it made no sense. But then trying to destroy the new-made elves didn't make much sense to him, either. At least his father and Feanaro had finally made their peace, though he'd been disappointed not to see Russandol. It had been far too long since he'd seen his cousin.

For that matter, where had the Finarfinions gotten to now? Findekano looked around to find them, and almost tripped over a pigeon. It fluttered about a foot away, then settled again, as if too exhausted to go further. Was that a message canister attached to its leg?

Findekano gently coaxed the bird onto his hand, and took out the message. He wished he had some water to give it. Then the contents of the letter drove all thoughts of the bird out of his mind.

"Manwe, Eonwe, Illmare, Varda… any Vala listening! Or maia!" he yelled. "Urgent message, now!" Around him, heads turned, but no Vala or maia appeared. His heart sank. They'd probably all gone to see to the Trees. He yelled again, then turned to go down and make for the Ezellohar himself. He'd get his horse and ride there himself if he had to.

That was when an elf-man he didn't recognize tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" said Findekano irritably.

"I am Olorin, a maia." Paying more attention, Findekano recognized the distinctive scent of maia on him. Well thank the Valar for that. "You said you have a message for Lord Manwe?" Olorin prompted.

Findekano handed it over. "Melkor is going to attack Formenos," he said. "He's probably doing so right now. I know your Lord is displeased with Feanaro, but please don't take it out on his family and followers."

"We would never do that," said the Maia, looking offended. "I must leave to tell Manwe at once."

"Thank you," called Findekano as the maia vanished into the crowd. He'd get the message to Manwe far sooner than Findekano could. Though there was one other he probably ought to tell… his uncle. Lovely.

Feanaro would probably do something foolishly dangerous. Maybe he'd better find Uncle Arafinwe first, and they'd both go tell him. He could tell his own father afterward, since he was less likely than uncle Feanaro to do something disastrous.

Finding Arafinwe proved easier said than done, but some indeterminate time later he'd found Arafinwe, passed the pigeon to Earwen to look after, and found Feanaro. As Findekano had feared, his half-uncle did NOT take it well.

"Melkor attacks Formenos? How dare he!" Feanaro's eyes blazed, and he raised his voice to carry far across the mountainside. "People of the Noldor," he cried, "attend me now!" Heads turned towards him across the darkened mountainside. "Melkor attacks Formenos! Your King and your kin are in danger. I go now to aid them. Who is with me?"

"I am!" yelled Findekano.

Arafinwe grabbed Feanaro's sleeve, and spoke urgently to his half-brother. "We are all with you, but we need weapons if we're to fight, and it's going to take time to get there. We'll need provisions, water, and it will all be over by the time we get there. The Valar are likely already on their way. We might do better to send healers than warriors."

"Go organize healers and supplies, then," said Feanaro, pulling his arm from Arafinwe's grasp. "I'm getting warriors together right now. I take it you're coming with me, nephew?"

"I am," said Findekano, uncomfortably aware that the most warlike implement on his person was a belt knife. "Where can we get weapons?"

"In Tirion."

"But you're banned from Tirion!" said Arafinwe.

"I don't care," said Feanaro.

"I doubt the Valar intended the ban for a time like right now," said Findekano.

"You stay on the outskirts, brother, while the rest of us go in to get our weapons. There's no sense in you getting in trouble when we can collect them more easily," said Nolofinwe, who'd just come up. "Let's get going. We can make plans on the way."

Feanaro looked at his brother for an instant with something that might have been gratitude. "Just hurry," he said. "I already have my sword with my horse, and I fear Melkor will have been sieging them long by the time we get there."

"We will hurry," said Nolofinwe. "He's our father too."

And so the Noldor began to stream down the mountainside towards Tirion, and onwards, towards Formenos.

* * *

A/N: The ripple effects have begun.


	6. Courage in the Dark

Maedhros felt a sense of recognition in the darkness. He remembered that feeling. He stared intently into the south. He couldn't see anything in that direction. Even the stars were veiled. "They come!" he cried. "They're coming from the south."

Finwe ran up the steps to stand beside him. "I can't see anything," Finwe said. "I don't think it was so dark even at Cuvienen."

"They're shrouded in darkness. It clouds the mind – most everyone will go mad with terror," said Maedhros dully, fighting fear. "It's going to get a lot worse. For Eru's sake, run, when they come through the gates. To fight Melkor alone is death."

"And you?" said Finwe.

"I will stay by the gate, and make sure that the trap gets pulled when they arrive. But I fear I may panic and pass out like everyone else," said Maedhros. "I did last time."

Finwe gave him an odd look, then turned back to look southwards. "I want more light out here immediately," said Finwe. "Curufinwe! We need blue lanterns on the walls."

"Coming, Sire," came Curufinwe's voice. A couple of minutes later, the blue lanterns were on the walls and uncovered.

But they seemed dim and fitful compared to their usual brilliance, and threw no light beyond the wall. Morgoth and Ungoliant must be getting near now. "I'm going to stand over the gate now," said Maedhros, his voice shaking slightly.

"I will go to the courtyard and talk some courage into people," said Finwe. "It's a foul darkness, but I refuse to cower from it like a child." Maedhros could hear Finwe's voice wobbling a little as he hurried down the steps, his little blue light bobbing a few times before it disappeared.

Within the walls, he could hear the sound of several people sobbing in fear.

Taking his pathetic little light, Maedhros walked to stand over the gate, where the trap hung ready for the swing of sword through rope that would send rocks tumbling down upon the enemy. Behind the parapet, more rocks had been piled ready.

When he reached the gate, he found the guards were shivering like frightened children, and failing to watch anything at all. And where was Captain Curelda? "Get up!" Maedhros demanded. "I will be with you, and our job is vital. Be ready to drop rocks outside the doors when the lights go out."

They nodded, standing more erect, even if their faces were still pale with fear. "When the lights go out?" one asked.

Then the torches went out, and the lanternlight dimmed near invisibility, illuminating nothing. People were screaming – the horses outside, and people inside, and he could hear running feet and Finwe yelling at the guards to stand fast. "Start dropping rocks," demanded Maedhros in a choked voice, as he shook the guard next to him, then reached down to grope for a rock himself. The trap needed to wait until he was certain the enemy was within reach. They would only have one chance.

Rock up, out, drop it over the parapet… each movement seemed leaden and hopeless in the grip of the Unlight. He did it again anyway, and again. He could hear the sound of orcs laughing, and chains clinking. _Not real, not here_ , his mind chanted. _Pick up the rock, pick it up_. His right wrist flared with agony, and he dropped the rock at his own feet, falling to his knees. Remembering where he was, he picked himself up, and picked up the rock again. He picked it up, and dropped it over the edge. A thunking sound and a venomous hiss told him he'd probably hit Ungoliant.

He grinned madly, feeling fire return to his heart. He stood, groping for the rope with one hand while he drew his sword with the other. Then he brought the sword down on the thick rope.

Rocks thundered down on the space in front of the gate.

"More rocks, drop more rocks!" he yelled to the guards. He'd no idea if they heard him, but he could hear the spider and Morgoth spitting what sounded like Valarin curse words so foul they would shame Sauron, as well as the sounds of the enemy hauling themselves out of the rubble. Not seriously hurt, then. Damn.

He dropped another rock. Something whistled through the air over his head. His senses reeled, and he fell to his knees again. Orcs, balrogs, werewolves howling in the deep… he bit his lip hard, but adding pain to evil memories wasn't much help.

A bit to his left, a hollow boom announced Morgoth was attacking the door. Better do something about that. He crawled along the top of the wall, colliding with the prone and motionless form of one of the guardsmen. Maedhros crawled over the guard. Another boom, another strike.

He could vaguely hear screaming, but it felt like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Finally, another boom from right underneath him. He found a rock, hauling himself up, but dropped it uselessly at his feet. He tried again, but lost his footing and landed on his face, hearing the doors crack below him. His head stabbed pain at him, and he lay gasping on top of the walkway.

 _Finwe_ , a little voice reminded him. _You must get to Finwe. Who's that?_ He couldn't quite remember.

Another boom, and the world shook violently. _Sauron laughed at him as he screamed_. _His left hand was burning, burning…_ Maedhros' body flamed with agony, and he passed out.

* * *

He came to with someone shaking him. He thrashed in their grasp, his eyes opening as he cried out. They released him. He looked around wildly, a dagger in one hand. Stars, the top of a rather unimpressive curtain wall, and the face of Finwe's guard Amandil.

"It's only me, Prince Nelyafinwe," said Amandil, backing away from him. "The King… Finwe…" he swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," said Maedhros, lowering the dagger as he sat up properly. "What happened to Finwe?"

The guard gestured into the courtyard. Maedhros staggered to his feet, and to the inner side of the wall, but he already had a good idea of what he'd see. Finwe lay on the ground, his skull smashed, in a puddle of his own blood.

Carnistir and someone else knelt by his side. The courtyard was nearly deserted, a few people curled in fetal position, or sprawled senseless on the ground. A few were bloody, or lay in positions that spoke of broken bones. Where was Tyelkormo? He was good at first aid. Having had only one hand in Beleriand, Maedhros had never been able to do much along those lines.

Carniel was most likely in the caverns. Maedhros looked back at the guard. "Do you know first aid?" he asked.

"Not well," Amandil said.

"Go to the caverns and tell the women and children that the danger is past, but we need healers," Maedhros told him.

They clattered down the stairs. Maedhros went to Carnistir. "Grandfather," croaked Carnistir, gesturing at Finwe's still form.

"Who's seeing to the wounded?" asked Maedhros.

Carnistir stared at him vacantly.

"Where's Tyelkormo?" demanded Maedhros.

"I don't know," said Carnistir. "What happened to your face?"

Maedhros put a hand up to his mouth. His lower lip was badly swollen, and there was half-dried blood all down his chin. Apparently he'd bitten his lip far harder than he'd realized. "Never mind that. But there are others badly hurt."

"I can help with that," said the guardsman kneeling next to them. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for the King."

Maedhros nodded. He suddenly realized he was still wearing his pack, which contained a first aid kit. He pulled off the pack and rummaged in it, pulling the kit out. "Here. I'm not very skilled, but there should be real healers coming from the caverns soon. Let's go and do what we can."

They started going to the huddled or sprawled figures. Maedhros was relieved to find that most of them were merely still overcome by the Unlight. Others, though…people had run into walls, or fallen over and trodden on each other. One unlucky fellow looked like he might have been both trampled and sat on by Ungoliant. Maedhros wasn't quite sure who he had been. At least, dying this way, he would not attract Namo's special anger by kinslaying.

Maedhros kept having to stop to give directions as more people collected themselves, realized Finwe was dead, and came to him as the one now legally in charge of this fiasco. A couple of real healers soon arrived, though Carniel herself remained in the caves to deal with injuries sustained by panicked people there. The healers relieved Maedhros of trying to treat the wounded, at least.

Time to go investigate what had happened to the silmarils. On his way there, he ran into Curufinwe. "They're gone," said Curufinwe. "They're gone. Everything is gone." His face was streaked with tears. "Finwe trusted me to protect them and I…"

Maedhros embraced his little brother. "None of us functioned properly in that foul blackness, Curvo. At least we're still alive," he said. Then his heart sank. Did Curufinwe even know the worst? "Finwe is dead," he said.

"Oh no," said Curufinwe, releasing Maedhros. "What is father going to do when he finds out?"

"I fear for his mind," said Maedhros. "He will not be rational in his grief, and we may have to keep him from harming himself and others."

"How," Curvo swallowed. "How did grandfather die?"

"He tried to fight Melkor and that foul spider alone," said Maedhros.

"Why was he alone?" demanded Curvo. "Where were Tyelkormo and Huan? They were supposed to stay with him!"

"Finwe was alone because everyone else ran away or fainted at their posts," said Maedhros. "Tyelkormo has a bloody nose from running head-first into a wall. Huan has a hurt paw."

"Where were you?"

"Springing the trap and was dropping more rocks over the gate. I lost my footing and passed out when Moringotto broke the gate. I think we might have managed to hit the spider and Moringotto with some of the rocks first, though. They started cursing in Valarin."

"Well, that's better than I did." He grew silent, lip curling in disgust. "Moringotto," he said savagely. "It suits him."

Just when Maedhros thought he might be able to sit down for a minute, the sound of hooves, neighing and the winding of a mighty horn startled them both.

It was Orome, and some of his maiar. Too late.


	7. A Wild Ride by Starlight

Maedhros met Orome at the gate.

"Oh no. I am sorry for your loss," said Orome, on being informed of events. "We came as quick as we could, but that foul mirk…"

Maedhros nodded slightly, understanding only too well – though he hadn't thought anything could affect a Vala that way – or that he'd ever see a Vala wearing that hangdog expression. It reminded him of Huan. Perhaps he'd overestimated their indifference and underestimated their incompetence at dealing with Moringotto last time around.

"Finwe will be safe in Namo's hands by now, but we need to get the Silmarils back so that life can be restored to the Trees. The trail is clear, and we will follow it. I shall leave a couple of my people to protect you in case he comes back."

"Do you have any skilled healers?" Maedhros asked. "We have injured among us."

"Not dedicated healers: that would be Este's following. But I shall leave Romestamo with you. He has some skill, and will give you what help he can."

With that, the Vala and his following rode off north into the dark, on the trail of their adversary. While Maedhros wished them all success, he had little hope that they would succeed in their hunt.

After a few minutes of bickering, the brothers decided that they really ought to inform their father that Finwe was dead and he was now King of the Noldor. The maia staying here had some very special horses indeed… which they agreed to lend to Feanaro's sons at Tyelkormo's entreaty.

Half an hour later Maedhros, Curufinwe, and Tyelkormo set out to tell their father the news. They left Makalaure organizing things back in Formenos. Of the three of them, Tyelkormo was the only one who had ridden one of Orome's horses before. They weren't the same as typical horses available to elves, so Maedhros listened carefully as his brother told them what to expect.

"They are very fast, and have a very smooth gait. They can see well by starlight. They can run without tiring from one mingling to the next, and will not founder. They are also far smarter than our horses, and have minds of their own. You'll need a firm mind and a firm hand if their mind disagrees with yours, or you'll wind up where and doing what they decide. If you're unlucky, that's dangling from a treebranch or sitting in the bottom of a ditch. Fortunately their masters have told them that they are to bear us according to our wishes." One of the horses snorted. "And yes, they understand whatever you say." The horse bumped Tyelkormo with her nose. Tyelkormo stroked it and nickered at her. She flicked her ears at him.

"So introduce yourself to your horse, and let's get going,"

They led the horses arounds the wreckage in front of the destroyed gates. Just outside, Tyelkormo leaned down and stopped his horse to examine a fair-sized boulder. Maedhros looked more closely. It was stained with ichor.

"Looks like we hurt the spider-thing with that trap," said Tyelkormo.

"Pity it didn't kill it, but better than nothing." said Curufinwe. "At least someone managed to make a blow count."

They set off without further incident. The horses were fast indeed. It was hardly the first time that Maedhros had ridden somewhere at a gallop, but this was by far the fastest horse he had ever ridden. It was more like flying than ordinary riding. A fierce grin spread across his face.

"Amazing, aren't they?" said Celegorm with satisfaction.

"Do you two mind?" said Curufinwe irritably. "I'm trying to figure out how we break the news to Father." His voice wasn't easy to hear over the wind of their passage.

"There isn't a good way to break news like this," said Maedhros, sobering. "We should probably try and get him alone. We'll also need to tell his half-siblings, but not at the same time, if at all possible."

"Why are you worrying about them now?" asked Curufinwe.

"Political reality," said Maedhros. "Finwe is their father too, whether we like the fact or not, and they're going to care that he's dead. I doubt Nolofinwe's going to be pleased that our father is now the rightful King. The fact Father's still exiled from Tirion, and Nolofinwe's Finwe's Regent there, only adds to the mess. There's likely to be strife enough between them that I don't wish to add to it."

"You just miss Findekano," said Tyelkormo.

"As you miss Irisse, brother. We've all got friends who stayed in Tirion. This division in the Noldor is dangerous."

"Hang the Valar's exile of Father, and your precious political reality, Maitimo. We should go to Middle-earth and pay Moringotto back for what he's done to us," snarled Curufinwe.

"We'll need the rest of the Noldor as allies if we do that," snapped Maedhros. "Or is your mind still addled by his last attack? If we must fight Moringotto, I intend to win." He raised an arm to rub his head. It had begun to hurt more fiercely again – smooth gait or not, riding so fast was not helping his concussion. He should probably have sent Makalaure, but he'd clean forgotten about his injury during the press of events. And it was his place to tell his father, his duty. He'd just have to live with it.

They continued riding, the horses flying down the dirt road beneath the stars.

On they went, and on, and on, beneath stars and scudding cloud, on the track through forest and fen, meadow and field. Maedhros' vision narrowed to the horse's neck in front of him, then to darkness, as he slid into an odd state, not truly awake or truly asleep. Finally, his horse neighed loudly and slowed suddenly. Maedhros slid forward onto the horses' neck and canted sideways, grabbing the horse's neck and mane frantically, his head stabbing at him. The horse snorted and stamped as Maedhros struggled right himself.

Tyelko's strong hands grabbed him, and rebalanced him on the horse's back before he could fall.

"You can't go to sleep, you fool," said Tyelkormo. "Rocco says you're about to fall and break your neck."

"My head," slurred Maedhros. "It hurts. I can't see straight."

"Damn. It's that concussion," said Curufinwe's voice. "He should have stayed behind. Stubborn fool."

"Now what are we going to do?" asked Tyelko. "We can't leave him sitting in the middle of the road in the dark."

Maedhros winced, because Tyelko was right. "Sorry," he said, forcing his eyes open.

"Do you have any limpe?" Curufinwe asked.

"I left it with the healers helping the wounded." said Tyelko.

"Get up behind him and keep him steady in the saddle. You can trade off horses if the horse gets tired."

"You'll help me if it comes to that," said Tyelkormo. "Maitimo's no lightweight."

Then a warm body settled into the saddle behind Maedhros, and strong arms wrapped itself around him to keep him upright. "Thank you," said Maedhros quietly. He closed his eyes, and trusted his brother to keep him safe as they set off again.

* * *

A/N: I figure the horses of Orome must have been pretty special. A lot like Shadowfax, only more so. Perhaps like horse versions of Huan.

As for the reappearance of Maedhros' concussion, well, they're funny things, and I'm sure that picking fights with Ungoliant, followed by riding implausibly fast horses for hours, is not recommended by doctors.


	8. Breaking the News

**Chapter Eight: Breaking the News**

To Findekano, worried as he was about what they'd find when they got to Formenos, it felt like the others were taking forever to get the weapons and supplies. Judging by Feanaro's taut face and clipped words, he felt likewise. It was highly nerve-racking sitting a horse beside him, trying to keep him from riding off prematurely, while the others went into Tirion. Feanaro kept drumming his fingers on things, until his horse started shying at waving grass-stalks.

Finally they were off. Findekano gave a sigh of relief as they left Tirion behind, moving to ride next to his father. Nolofinwe did not speak, just nodded, and stared ahead into the dark.

A few minutes later, Feanaro jerked in his saddle, leaning forwards and staring intently into the night. Findekano did likewise, but he could see nothing at first. Then he made out riders coming towards them at a very fast pace. There were three of them. Two of the three seemed to be sharing a horse, and the front figure was slumped as if completely exhausted or injured.

Feanaro picked up the pace, and the others followed. It was then that Findekano recognized Tyelkormo's silver hair. And the slumped figure was Maitimo.

As they came nearer, Maitimo pulled himself more upright. At least that meant he couldn't be too terribly hurt. Finally, the groups met. "My sons, what news of Formenos? My father, is he…" said Feanaro, his voice trailing off.

 _Just like Feanaro not to ask about his children_ , thought Findekano, _never mind that that one of them is obviously hurt – no, make that two, there's bloody smears and a black eye on Tyelko_. But all thoughts of that fled at the expression on his cousin's faces.

"No!" cried Feanaro. "He can't be dead. He can't!"

Feanaro swayed on his horse. Curufinwe the younger vaulted off his own horse, and ran to his side. "I am so sorry, Father," he said, voice cracking. "That – that Moringotto killed him."

Feanaro fainted into Curufinwe's arms, and Tyelkormo jumped down from his horse to help get him off the horse safely. Maitimo stayed where he was, clutching the horn of the saddle with white-knuckled hands.

Findekano looked to his own father. He sat still as a statue astride his horse. "Father?" Findekano asked, getting down from his own horse, and moving to his father's side. Nolofinwe didn't answer, just bowed his head so his face was hidden in the shadow of his hair.

Irisse pulled her horse up to Maitimo. "What happened? she demanded. "Are your brothers all right?"

Maitimo visibly pulled himself together, turning to look at them. "All of us live, and none are badly hurt," he said in a toneless voice. "Five of our people are dead, mostly by falls from the walls or trampling."

"Trampling?" Nolofinwe asked, his head coming up.

"Where were the Valar?" demanded Findekano. "I gave your message to the Maia Olorin, and he said he was going to get them!" Findekano swallowed. "Did they not come?"

"Nay, Orome came," said Tyelkormo. "But too late. Melkor had slain Finwe, and stolen all our treasures. The Silmarils are taken."

Feanaro raised his head, a wild flame in his eyes. "Melkor what?" he said quietly.

"He stole the Silmarils."

Feanaro stood, shaking off his son's hands. "Curse him!" he shrieked. "That vile, monstrous fiend of a Vala has slain my father and taken the Silmarils. Curse the day that Manwe summoned me to that vapid excuse for a festival."

Feanaro's horse backed away from him, ears laid back. So did his elven listeners, save Atarinke alone.

"And curse the day that Manwe let that conniving fraud of a Vala out of Mandos! And curse Orome's incompetence." His face worked, and he whirled to flee into the night. Atarinke tackled him to the ground as he took the first step. Feanaro snarled and thrashed like a wounded animal. Findekano thought he saw father bite son, though he couldn't be sure.

"Father, no, calm down. Don't leave us, please," pleaded Atarinke as Feanaro tried to shake him off. "Tyelko help me, he's not rational right now!"

Tyelkormo assisted by grabbing Feanaro's arms and twisting them behind him. Feanaro snarled at them, spitting vile insults in his fury.

"They need space. Move back." said Maitimo. His horse, and the two now-riderless ones, moved to stand in between Feanaro and the Fingolfinions, blocking their view. A puzzled expression appeared on Maitimo's face. "How come you here on the north road, armed for war?" he asked.

"We heard Formenos was under attack, so we were coming to help. But there was no time, and we are too late," said Findekano. "Do you need healers? Arafinwe was organizing them, and they should be just behind us."

Maitimo hesitated, swaying a little. "Orome left one of his maiar with us to help, and we've some healers already there. But we accept your aid with thanks."

"You're hurt. What happened?" asked Findekano, taking a step towards his friend.

"I hit my head when I had a vision cascade yesterday." He frowned. "What day is it?"

"It's about noon on the day after the Darkening," said Findarato. "You can use the stars to tell time. The Teleri do that in Alqualonde. You have visions?"

"Oh. I forgot." Maitimo blew at a strand of hair that had escaped his braid and was trying to get into his mouth. His chin was covered in dried blood, but he didn't seem to care. He didn't seem to notice Findarato's question, either.

"I'm going to Formenos to bury Finwe." said Feanaro. His voice was ragged, but Tyelkormo and Curufinwe had let him up, and his face was drawn but resolute.

"Are you coming, Nolofinwe?" asked Feanaro.

Nolofinwe blinked, visibly torn. "I want to, but I am Regent and can hardly abandon those in my trust in Tirion in a time such as this."

Feanaro's face closed.

Findekano's eye fell on Maitimo. "Maitimo and I can stay, father," said Findekano. "The people trust me, and there's no way he's fit to ride so far. It isn't as if you'll be away for more than a couple of weeks."

Councillor Valandil objected. "My lord, your son and your nephew are too inexperienced to rule in such a dark time."

Maitimo's mouth twitched as if he found this amusing, though Findekano had not the faintest idea why.

"They'll be fine," said Feanaro. "It isn't as if Melkor has any interest in attacking Tirion." Feanaro's lip curled in a sneer.

"He won't,will he?" asked Curufinwe. "Maitimo? Melkor and that spider-thing aren't going to attack Tirion, are they?"

"Oh no," said Maitimo. "They're headed north, and Orome's chasing them."

"How can you be sure of that?" demanded Valandil. "Unless Melkor tells you what he's planning, now?"

Maitimo's eyes flashed, and he drew himself up to his full height, looking down his nose at Valandil.

Valandil and his horse shied away.

Maitimo spoke: "It was Orome's maiar who loaned us these horses that got us here so swiftly, and Orome who told us he and Tulkas were going after Melkor. That spider leaves a trail an infant could follow, and my vision showed me them in the far North of Middle-earth."

"How would you recognise Middle-earth?" asked someone from behind Findekano.

"There were icebergs, and it wasn't Araman!" snapped Nelyo.

"And Nelyafinwe has seen Araman," interjected Feanaro. "You forget, Valandil, that unlike you who are content to remain placidly in Tirion, **my** family has travelled over all of Aman. Are you coming or not, Nolofinwe?"

"I will come," said Nolofinwe. "But I want you two to send a messenger if there is anything you cannot handle, is that understood?"

"Yes, father," said Findekano.

"Yes, uncle," said Maitimo.

"In order to rule the Noldor even for such a short time, you must take Oath," said Nolofinwe.

Maitimo froze visibly, his eyes widening, then he seemed to relax a little. "I'm going to need help getting down," he said.

Findekano and Irisse ended up helping him, since Maitimo's brothers were busy keeping an eye on their father. Maitimo leaned heavily on Findekano, as his legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. At least oaths were taken kneeling.

"I swear to rule the Noldor of Tirion in Feanaro and Nolofinwe's stead, until Nolofinwe or Feanaro returns, at which time I will give up my charge. I will guard and guide my people, returning that which is given, fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance. So say I, Findekano son of Nolofinwe."

Maitimo swore likewise.

"I hear you, and appoint you Findekano my son, and you Maitimo my brother's son, my regents in Tirion in my absence. Rule well and justly. I will return ere long." said Nolofinwe.


	9. A Darkened Tirion

**Chapter 9: A Darkened Tirion**

That was when Arafinwe and the others turned up, and explanations had to be given again… but Feanaro lost patience.

"I am leaving," he said, stalking to the horse Maitimo had been riding. The horse sniffed Feanaro's hand, and laid his ears back. Feanaro glared at him. "You are going to bear me back to your master," he told the horse firmly. It sighed, and whuffed something that made Tyelkormo choke. Feanaro mounted, and rode away. With him went Tyelkormo, Curufinwe, Nolofinwe, Lalwende, and Irisse, along with a group of guards.

Arafinwe went pale at the news of his father's death. "I feared this ever since Findekano received that message." He wiped almost angrily at his eyes. "But you say that there were few other deaths?"

Arafinwe surprised them by deciding not to ride after the others, though he did send the healers on. "There is nothing I can do for my father now, and I think you two could use my support. There are a lot of frightened people back in Tirion, and they aren't going to be easy to handle." It suddenly struck Findekano, that really, it might have made more sense to have Arafinwe be Regent, and also that his feelings might be hurt by the appointment of his two nephews.

"If you are willing to stay, I would be grateful for your help," Findekano told him.

"What's wrong with Maitimo?" Findarato asked.

"A concussion, and exhaustion," said Findekano. "Turukano, I could really use some help getting him onto a horse."

With a good deal of effort, the three of them got Maitimo safely onto Findekano's horse. Findekano leapt lightly up behind him. Slowly, the group rode back to Tirion.

Maedhros tried to think past his splitting headache. He needed to think - things were already spiralling off in unexpected directions. None of this had happened last time! But it looked as if the breach in the family might be getting narrower instead of wider. All because of a single message that didn't even make it in time. Of course, that assumed that without Findekano and himself to play peacemakers, their fathers didn't kill each other…

The streets were dark, save for pools of light from torches or the odd Feanorian lantern. People yelled questions at them about what was happening. Findekano promised them they would tell them as soon as they got back to the palace. "Maitimo," said Findekano quietly, "You were there. You're going to have to tell them what happened. You haven't even told me exactly what happened."

Maedhros closed his eyes. "Understood," he said. "I can do it, if I can lean on you." One way or another, he always seemed to find himself leaning on Findekano. He hadn't been as good a friend as Findekano deserved last time. But maybe this time he could begin to repay his friend for all he'd done for him. There would be no Oath between them now. Maedhros would make sure of that, if he failed at all else.

In the end, Maedhros was forced to lie down and sleep for a few hours before going out to face the populace, as he could neither stand upright, nor give a coherent account of events.

It was still dark when he woke, of course, and a mist had sprung up that shrouded the city.

They stood on the palace balcony that opened onto the square. Maedhros looked out onto a small and scattered sea of faces, lit by torchlight and the light from the Mindon. Unwillingly, he remembered a much larger crowd, and his father's eyes gleaming with rage and grief past bearing. But that was not now, not yet.

"People of Tirion," Maedhros cried, "I bear terrible news. Our King, Finwe, is dead, slain by Melkor." Shouts of shock and horror greeted this, and the crowd grew quiet. "Melkor was aided by a spider-shaped horror from the Void. They it was who destroyed the Two Trees, slew our King, and stole many of Feanaro's greatest creations, including the Silmarils, in which the light of the Two Trees alone now lives."

"Where were the Valar?" cried a voice in the crowd. "Shame!" several voices took up the cry. Maedhros suddenly realized that this speech was sounding familiar – like a pale echo of his father's. He'd better do something about that...

"Orome and Tulkas are chasing him to the far north. But they too are hampered by the Unlight that blinded us when that Moringotto attacked us. I know that you felt the edges of it in Tirion, in Valmar, and on Taniquetil. Believe me, it is far, far worse when they are right there, in front of you…" his voice trailed off. There was no way to make anyone understand who had not been there, who had not faced the dark head-on and failed.

"People panicked. No one could see a thing, or think clearly to run a defense. Even stooping to pick up a rock was near to impossible, and many broke and fled. Those who did not flee, fainted at their posts. Except for Finwe. He stood alone in the Courtyard against Moringotto. I remember nothing after Moringotto broke the gates, but it is clear that-" Maedhros took a deep breath.

"Finwe tried to stop him, and Moringotto killed him for it. Then he stole the silmarils and many other fair things of Feanaro's making, and left, leaving Finwe lying dead in the middle of the courtyard."

An ugly growl came from the crowd. "And where were you and your brothers while all this was happening?" demanded a voice.

"I was over the gate, setting off a rockfall trap, and dropping rocks I couldn't see on horrors I couldn't see either. It enraged them, and we believe it lightly injured the spider, but it did not stop either her or Melkor. When the gates were stoven in, I lost consciousness. When I woke again, Melkor and his friend were long gone. My brothers' stories are similar. We were pitted against a foe too great for our minds, or even the minds of Orome and Tulkas, to withstand. They and Orome's host became confused and scattered when they hit the Unlight. That is why they were too late to help us."

"When Orome and his host finally arrived, they left three maia with us as defense and healers and went after Melkor themselves. Tylekormo, Curufinwe and I borrowed their horses and made for Tirion, where we met Nolofinwe and Findekano setting out to our aid. I believe Findekano and Arafinwe have already told you the rest."

More words then followed from both Findekano and himself, setting out how their brief regency was to work. Then it was over, and Maedhros followed his cousin back inside.

The next two weeks were busy ones, organizing a city and a people used to endless light to survive in the dark. Maedhros made himself useful however he could. Having lived in the dark before, it didn't bother him, and there was a lot he could do to help the others. His concussion ebbed gradually to a mild headache that cropped up when he dealt with fools for too long.

At least it gave him an excuse for sharp remarks. Beleriand hadn't left him with much tolerance for fatuous idiots. People like that ended up getting others killed to salve their own egos.

These people were so unbelievably sheltered! Not only did most of them barely know which end of a sword to hold, in theory only as they'd never actually done so in their lives, they didn't know how to make a torch, tell north from star positions, make a bleeding candle, or stand a watch properly. They were going to have to learn better, and fast.

Not for the first time, Maedhros wondered if the elves had been wrong to follow the Valar to Valinor. It was beautiful, yes, but it was a paradise and gilded cage that could never have lasted forever. And losing it broke some people.

They had to send healers around because some of the more timid people began wasting away in fear, or their fea became lost in the dark. A few even died, though not many. Arafinwe proved to have a real talent for pulling people out of these funk states, for which Maedhros found himself grateful. He wondered what might have happened if they'd had Arafinwe with them last time they were in Endore. He should probably be grateful Arafinwe hadn't been. He'd probably have ended up dying horribly, like so many others.


	10. Of Visions and Memories

Later, Findekano looked back on these weeks as a breather between bouts of madness afflicting the world. It was busy and awkward, yes, but they were able to sort out everything between them. Arafinwe's calm demeanor and faith were a gift of the One, and Maitimo always seemed able to come up with a plan of action, or know how to do whatever was needed. It was good to have his cousin there, and not just because he was Findekano's best friend.

His friend had changed much in the years spent in the north. He was harsher and sadder than the cousin he had known before, and seemed somehow much, much older. Older than Indis even, as impossible as that was. He did not speak much of what he had experienced or what he had Seen, but it lay between them like a sleeping tiger.

Finally, Findekano decided he'd had enough. "Russandol," he said firmly.

His cousin looked up from the couch, where he sat staring moodily into the fire, and twirling a nearly empty wine glass in one hand. "What?" Maitimo asked.

"You've changed. What happened?" asked Findekano.

Maitimo raised his eyebrows. "Banishment, the Darkening, Finwe's death."

Findekano hesitated, then shook his head. "I think there's something else bothering you as well, not that those things aren't terrible enough. Your eyes are different. You're suddenly downright paranoid about guarding a city that has never been under attack, and you snap at people because they don't have skills that we've never needed before in our lives. And where did you learn to fight left-handed like that? I've never seen anyone so good, and you're right-handed! Even that's not all! You're watching, always wary as if you're expecting to be attacked at any time. You're wearing a sword right now, and there's a dagger in your boot. What did you See that you haven't told me?"

Maitimo put the glass down, and pushed his hair back from his face. "A lot," he said bluntly, meeting Findkano's eyes. "I don't know how much of it is going to happen, because events are already diverging from what I foresaw. It was bad, and this is only getting started."

"You can tell me," said Findekano. "Have you told anyone what you saw? Makalaure, maybe?"

Maitimo shook his head. "There wasn't time. I told Finwe that Melkor and Ungoliant were coming, and that the Treelight would die, but he didn't fully believe me, and his actions just got even more people killed. I-"

"I believe you. Everyone knows you foresaw that now, and that it came true. You can tell me the rest, no matter how terrible. You don't have to do this alone."

Maitimo buried his face in his hands, muffling his voice slightly. "You shouldn't trust me, Finno. Everything I do turns to dust in the end."

"Like what?" demanded Findekano. "So you failed to stop Finwe being a stubborn fool and getting himself killed. That's his fault, not yours. The same with your father's foolishness. I know how hard you tried to bridge the gap between our families, and if there's any failure it is as much mine as yours." Findekano scooted along the couch and put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. Nelyo was tense as a coiled spring.

"It's not that," Nelyo said. "It's what I'll do, what I'll become in the future."

"In this future that you've seen?"

"Yes."

"But you've already told me it is diverging from what you saw."

"You don't understand," snapped Nelyo. "It's not visions, it's memories! I've done more evil than you will ever understand, and I dragged you into some of it. And got you killed!"

Findekano's mind ground to a halt even as his mouth answered, "I was alive last time I looked."

Nelyo didn't laugh, speaking in a harsh, grating voice. "I am a mass murderer, and I don't deserve to live. The only reason I came back is that Eru wants me to fix my mistakes. I'm not someone you should trust, no matter how long we've been friends, or how much you care for me. I don't want to break you."

"I don't understand. That… what do you mean you came back and Eru wants you to fix your mistakes?"

"I don't entirely understand it either," Nelyo admitted. "After I died, Eru asked me if I regretted taking the Oath and my vile deeds in its pursuit. I told him I did. He told me that there was a place in the music, a DS al fine where a repeat was possible, and that I could go back and change things. Then I woke up in Formenos with a really bad headache and Makalaure fussing over me."

"How did dying cause you to meet Eru? Are you sure it wasn't Namo?"

"He fished me out of the void after I killed myself, and I found myself in the Timeless Halls. It didn't sound like Namo and he told me he was Eru."

"You killed yourself? You mean you died of grief or weariness?" That didn't sound like Maitimo at all.

"No, I jumped off a cliff."

Findekano just stared at his old friend.

Nelyo stared at the carpet, his face hidden by his hair. "Why?" Findekano whispered. "Why would you do that?"

"I'd wrecked everything, done so much wrong, and there was nothing, nothing I could do that would ever make it right again. Better that I end it before I killed anyone else. I…" Nelyo trailed off, his shoulders shaking.

Findekano didn't know what to say, so he just held his friend as he wept. Some minutes later, Nelyo added. "What I'm most scared of is that I'll end up doing it all over again."

"No," said Findekano, giving Nelyo's shoulder a shake. "You won't do it over again. Eru would not have sent you back if that was all that was going to happen. He would not. And now I know, I won't let you, and you are going to listen to me because you don't want to do it again."

Nelyo started laughing through his tears, then said, "Ai, Fingon, how is it that you are so good at shaking me out of thoughts of despair?"

"Because I know you too well." said Findekano, thinking _Fingon?_

"That you do indeed." Nelyo then told the strangest tale Findekano had ever heard. His cousin spoke of oaths and bloodstained revenge that horrified Findekano, of high courage and tragedy that left Findekano feeling a little inadequate when compared to the larger-than-life figure that was apparently his future, of heroism that thrilled him and villainy that shocked him, of defeat and a victory unlooked-for that came too late for most. Of dwarves and mortal men, elves and orcs, dragons and eagles, twisted former maiar and ents. Of realms founded, flourishing, lost to the enemy and regained only to be lost beneath the waves forever.

It was very late, the wine bottle was empty, and Nelyo was hoarse by the time the tale ended.

Then one of the watchmen skidded in, "My lords, there is an armed host of elves approaching the gates!"

"Here comes Feanaro," said Maitimo, standing and stretching. "We are out of time." They left together, to face the future that rushed towards them.


	11. Where is Nolofinwe?

Maedhros, followed closely by Findekano, hurried along the hall and down the stairs. They came out at the top of the stairs leading down to the great square. The mindon lit the place with a fragile light akin to the moonlight of Middle-earth, aided by lamps on the walls. The square was almost empty.

"My Lords, it is Feanaro!" cried a servant. "And a host out of Formenos."

"He's breaking the ban of the Valar," said Anaire hotly, appearing behind them. "What madness grips him now? And where is my husband?"

"Maybe the Valar have granted him entrance under the circumstances?" suggested Findarato, arriving from the other door. "We know nothing for certain as of yet. My Lord Regents Findekano, Maitimo, what would you have us do? Shall they enter?"

Findekano and Maitimo exchanged glances. "Yes," said Maedhros heavily. "I, for one, have no intention of shutting the gates in the faces of our King my father, for whom we are only regents. We have not that right."

"What if Feanaro does not have the Valar's permission? His followers are armed!" cried Artanis.

"Artanis, you saw them?" asked Maedhros.

She nodded.

"Did you see Nolofinwe or Irisse amongst them?" asked Maedhros.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I came as quickly as I could. It is hard to say precisely who is with Feanaro, but I did not see Nolofinwe or his banners."

"If that vile brother-in-law of mine has harmed my husband or daughter, I will stab him with his own sword," snarled Anaire.

"Get in line," snapped Lalwende.

"Calm down everyone!" snapped Maedhros. "I will go to the gate, and ASK Feanaro what he is doing and where Nolofinwe is."

"I answer to no son of Feanaro!" returned Lalwende.

"You can still listen to me." said Findekano. "Calm down. Maitimo is by far the best-placed here to find out what Feanaro is about, and where my father is." He turned to Maedhros and jerked his head in the direction of the gate, his eyes saying _I'm counting on you now_.

Maedhros nodded, and ran down the stairs and across the square towards the city gates. People stared to see him running, but he ignored them. He reached the gates some ten minutes or so later.

The guards at the gate were confused, demanding orders. He told them to keep the gates open, and headed out at a fast walk to meet his father.

His father's banners were obvious in the torch and lantern light as the host marched down the main road through the outskirts of Tirion, along with those of Maedhros' brothers. But no Nolofinwe or Irisse. What the hell was his father playing at? _Please tell me he hasn't started kinslaying early…_

Finally he neared them. Feanaro held up his hand, and the host halted. It wasn't the most together halt he'd ever seen, but most of these were not soldiers.

"Nelyafinwe, my son, how fares Tirion?"

"As well as can be expected, save for some who are panicking because they cannot see your brother's banners. Where is Nolofinwe?"

"He and his people are some few miles back. His horse threw a shoe when it spooked at something in the grass, and they stopped to fix it."

"Of all the confounded… and you did not think to wait?" Even as he spoke, Maedhros wondered if the horse had perhaps been 'helped' to lose the shoe. It would be a little too convenient if Nolofinwe was late to the great debate Feanaro was probably planning.

"Why should I? They'll be fine." Feanaro smirked.

Maedhros' eyes narrowed. "Because some of our kin back in Tirion fear you have harmed him."

"They what?" demanded Makalaure. "We would never harm our kin," he said, gesturing gracefully. "Even in a rage Feanaro never hurt Nolofinwe. He only drew sword on him to warn him. You know that!"

"The darkness gets into people's heads, and any horror seems plausible," said Maedhros. "But it would do us no harm to reassure them."

"Makalaure, go ahead and reassure your uncle and cousins. Nelyo, you stay here and tell me what is happening in Tirion."

"Findekano and the others are expecting me back," said Maedhros. "It's better if I go."

"No, I want you here," said Feanaro.

"Lalwende and Anaire are already convinced you've harmed Nolofinwe, and they mistrust me less than they do Makalaure. Send us both."

"No. If they mistrust Makalaure, they will mistrust your lack of knowledge. Makalaure, go."

Makalaure threw his eldest brother an apologetic look and left.

Maedhros capitulated. At least this way he could attempt to talk to his brothers and figure out if his father was up to exactly the same thing as he was last time. "They'll want to know what Feanaro intends as well. Tell them – and tell Findekano that we have NOT reached Alqualonde." He called after his brother's retreating figure.

"I will," Makalaure called back, sounding a bit puzzled as he urged his horse into a canter.

"What is the mood like in Tirion?" Feanor proceeded to question Maedhros intensely, and he had no time to speak to his brothers. Feanaro did not answer Maedhros' questions beyond saying he intended to speak to the people of Tirion. At least Maedhros managed to catch a glimpse of Nolofinwe's banner behind them, and confirm Feanaro's account. He hated having to be so suspicious of his own father, but he could not forget what Feanaro was capable of.

The doors of the city were still open, and Feanaro and his host entered without opposition, although many hands strayed to weapons as the people of Tirion watched the Exiles' return. Feanaro made straight for the Great Square.


	12. Feanaro's Speech

The square was no longer empty, but people backed away as Feanaro's host rode and strode into it. More curious folk followed behind them as the square continued to fill.

Findekano met them in the middle of the square, Arafinwe and many others of their family standing beside him. Makalaure stood on his other side, looking isolated yet unruffled – unless you knew what that slightly too-perfect posture meant. He was nearly as scared as Maedhros.

"Findekano, it is good to see you." said Feanaro, coming forward but not dismounting. "You are now released from your vow and your burden."

"Where is my father?" demanded Findekano. "He should be here. Where is he?"

"He is but a few miles behind and should be here within the hour. Surely Makalaure told you?"

Makalaure nodded. "I did."

"I saw Nolofinwe's banner in the distance," Maedhros added.

"You need have no fear for your father," said Feanaro. "His horse threw a shoe, but is unharmed, as is he. Your Oath spoke of laying down your regency at my return. How fares Tirion?"

Findarato spoke up: "Uncle, while you are by right our King, I understand you are still exiled by the Valar's order. Have you gone to them to get your exile lifted?"

"Who gave the Valar the right to choose the Noldor's King?" Feanaro lifted his voice. "Especially given that the Valar's incompetence and outright negligence killed King Finwe."

Many in the crowd gasped at Feanaro's accusation.

"Yes, our King is dead." He let that sink in for a moment, closing his eyes and bowing his head. When he raised it again, his eyes shone with grief and rage so powerful that Maedhros felt his own stir likewise. He really ought to find a way to stop this, but it would be like trying to stop the tide from rising. The Valar deserved it, anyway.

"That vile Moringotto killed my father, and left him lying on the ground like a slaughtered beast, and others of my people beside. The Silmarils are gone! The only treelight in this world is in the accursed hands of my father's murderer. My sons tried to stop him, and some were wounded in so doing. Curufinwe and Nelyafinwe even managed to land a blow on Moringotto's monstrous accomplice. I am damned proud of them today, even though they failed to save our King or the Silmarils." His voice dropped so that those at the back of the crowd would have to strain to hear. "But where were the Valar while this was happening?"

"Sat deedless and weeping beside the dead trees, with two _honourable_ exceptions," here Feanaro sneered, "Orome and Tulkas, who were running around in circles the dark, and didn't turn up until after their Kinsman had been and done his worst."

"For how many yeni have we done all as the Valar demanded? We sat at their feet, admired them, worshipped them! And this is how they repay us. Yet this is not the worst of it."

"Orome and Tulkas now hunt the Silmarils to retrieve them from their Kinsman. A good thing, surely, and showing their goodwill towards us whom they claim to love and protect?"

"I wish it were so, but it is not," he said softly. "They seek the Silmarils for their own sake, and not for ours. They wish to break them to restore light to the dead Trees, if such is even possible at such a late date. A good thing, surely, even if they," his voice hardened, "failed to ask my permission to destroy my greatest works?" He let that hang for a moment.

"Many of you may not know that when as much of one's own soul has been poured into creating a magical artifact as I did creating the Silmarils, breaking that artifact will kill the creator."

"In the Valar's mind, my place is to die, and they had not even the courtesy to inform me of this and apologize, let alone ask permission! And if they are willing to kill me to suit their convenience, what else are they willing to do to us whenever it suits them? If they truly cared for us, they would have let the Moringotto rot in Mandos for what he did to the elves of Cuvienien and none of this current disaster would ever have happened! But no, he is Manwe's brother and must be allowed his second and third chances while sending my Father, our King, to Mandos in his stead!" Tears streaked Feanaro's cheeks, but neither his voice, nor the fire in his eyes wavered.

"They insist that we are free, but we might as well be thralls for all the power we have over our own destiny. I don't know about you, but I will be thrall to no one. We have other options, better ones than being the Valar's pets and playthings." He leaned over and snatched the torch out of Tyelko's hand, causing his son's horse to shy away and lay his ears back. Feanaro held it high, the torch's light bathing his face in flickering flame and shining reflected in his eyes.

"In Cuvienen, sweet waters ran beneath unclouded stars, and wide lands around them, where a free people might walk. They are there still, even if we fools left them for the shining cage of Valinor. We can go back, and build a free land without being at the mercy of the Valar every day of our lives."

Feanaro spoke of the Middle-earth he had studied in his long poring over ancient lore, and of mortal men, doomed to supplant the elves and take their place. Maedhros almost came out of it then. Stubborn, wilfull, greedy, generous, cowardly or heroic by turns, mortal men were many things, but easily ruled by the Valar wasn't one of them.

Maedhros remembered Beleriand and the North. The wide plains of Ard-galen on a summer day beneath the sun, Himring's bright banners as he rode home after a patrol, fire… the ships burning, Dorthonion and Ard-galen burning, forge-flames in depths of Angband, Thangorodrim, Glaurung, hearing the news of Fingon's death, searching for Elured and Elurin through the bitter cold of Doriath's emptied forests. The Valar might not be perfect, but there were worse things out there. _Like me._

"I will take all brave enough to follow me to Middle-earth, where we will take back what is ours, and bring the Moringotto to justice, as Manwe has failed to do!"

Maedhros opened his mouth to speak, but another voice spoke first.

"If you believe that, brother, you are deluding yourself," said Nolofinwe. Maedhros turned to look behind. His uncle stood at the entry to the square, disgust warring with anger on his face. "When has Manwe ever treated us as thralls?" Nolofinwe demanded. "The Valar have ever treated us with kindness and consideration."

"So thinks the fatted calf as it is being led to the slaughter," returned Feanaro. "Given the Valar's failure to properly police their own, I would rather take my safety and that of my people into my own hands. It will be harder, yes, but at least I can be certain that I will not forget due to being busy making merry."

"And you plan to do what, exactly, when you finally run into Melkor?" demanded Nolofinwe. "Melkor's a Vala, you fool. I've seen with my own eyes the mess he made of Formenos' gates and would-be defenders. You'll get yourself killed, along with everyone fool enough to follow you, and he will _still_ have your Silmarils!"

"Well stay then, little brother, if you are so afraid of dying that your newly-given word to follow my lead in all things is worthless." said Feanaro, and started to turn back to address the people once more.

"I gave my word to follow your lead assuming that you were sane," cried Nolofinwe, "and not about to leap into Mandos' arms dragging all the Noldor with you! I also swore Oaths to the Noldor as the Regent of Tirion, to _serve and protect_ my people. You don't even know what that means, do you?"

"How dare you speak to Father like that," screamed Carnistir, starting to draw his sword. Maedhros lunged to grab his arm, forcing Carnistir to drop the blade from suddenly numb fingers. "What did you do that for?" Carnistir demanded.

"What were you going to do with that, brother?" Maedhros demanded. "Kill our uncle? This is a matter for words, not blows." Carnistir pouted, and cradled his wrist. "Wasn't going to kill him," he muttered. "Just frighten him a little."

"Would you have your son strike me down for speaking the truth?" said Nolofinwe. "Oh, I forgot, you were exiled for threatening to do so yourself. He takes after you, I see, more's the pity."

"And you are being pointlessly offensive," said Makalaure. "If you break your oath to father, then you are an oathbreaker, and he has every right to point that out."

"He should never have taken the oath in the first place," yelled Lalwende. "We should stay right here where we belong."

"Calm down," said Arafinwe. "There is no need to make a decision right this second, and this will be the most important decision since we left for Valinor. Moringotto is long gone at this point – spending time to reflect will harm us not at all, even if some of us do decide in the end to leave. And Feanaro, Nolofinwe, why are you allowing him who you call Moringotto's lies to continue to set you at each others' throats?"

"Arafinwe is right," said Maedhros. "If we cannot work together, it will always aid our enemies. How Moringotto would laugh to see us now. If we are to leave, we need to plan what to take, and how we're going to get so many thousands of people to the other side of the sea. The Valar are not going to be dragging any islands across the ocean for us this time."

"No, this needs to be settled now, while everyone is here!" said Feanaro, glaring at his wayward eldest, who glared back. "As for planning our journey," Feanaro continued, "that is pointless until I know who is coming to seek a new land, where we can be free. I know I am not the only courageous man in this courageous people."

"Are you calling me a coward for being loyal to the Valar, and for thinking?" demanded Nolofinwe.

"That depends on your actions, my brother," said Feanaro. "You do as you will, my faithless brother, but I will avenge my father, and take back our treasures from Moringotto, if I must travel to the ends of the earth." He drew his sword and held it high.

"He is not alone," cried Curufinwe, and drew his. Tyelkormo and the others followed, save Maedhros.

Feanaro cried "Hear me, all of you: Against Morin-"

"No!" screamed Maedhros, and flung himself at his father's feet "Don't do it! Not again. You will not destroy us again." His brothers stared at him.

"Why are you being such a bloody coward?" said Feanaro, tearing away from Maedhros' hands.

"Against Moringotto –" Maedhros could hear others following his father's voice.

Maedhros jumped to his feet and punched his father in the face. The horse reared, and Feanaro fell off, blood streaming from his nose, eyes open wide in total shock.

* * *

A/N: Guest, thank you for the review and no need to feel embarrassed about your English. I can't speak or write anything but English much beyond "Hi, my name is X. What is your name?" level.


	13. Consequences

A/N: I have made some minor changes to the early part of this story. The biggest change is that Maedhros talked Curufin into making a trap for Ungoliant and Morgoth that had slightly more effect than dropping rocks by hand. The next largest is that Maedhros reacted a bit more obviously to seeing his much younger (and alive!) brothers than he did before. These were made at the suggestion of a friend who prefers to remain nameless online.

Lona, Guest and Anon, thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I'd wondered how people would react to Maedhros punching Feanor. Now I know!

* * *

Maedhros was abruptly aware of the total silence surrounding them. Makalaure's mouth was open. "That was to prevent you calling Manwe, Varda, and Eru to witness us all taking an oath of Vengeance against Moringotto and _anyone_ else who dares keep or hold the Silmarils with everlasting darkness our doom when we fail," said Maedhros. "You will destroy our family, and the Noldor. I will follow you to Middle-earth and fight Moringotto beside you, but I will _never_ swear that oath nor stand silent while you damn yourself and my brothers." He hesitated, then looked at his father sitting sprawled on the ground, shock warring with rage in his eyes as he clutched his face. Maedhros added "Would you like a handkerchief?" Maybe he shouldn't have hit him quite that hard.

"Get away from him," snapped Curufinwe, offering a handkerchief of his own and getting in between his eldest brother and their father. "How dare you strike our father!"

"I thought you said this is a matter for words?" muttered Carnistir as he grabbed Maedhros' arm. "How come you can punch father while I can't lay a finger on uncle Nolofinwe when he's being an offensive bastard?"

"If Father has his way, the violence is never going to stop, and you will die killing other elves as they tried frantically to defend their lord," said Maedhros, allowing his brother to pull him away from Feanaro. He hadn't intended to hit his father. What would happen now?

"Just lean forward so you're not swallowing it," Maedhros heard Curufinwe say. "Yes, like that."

"Maitimo, what in the name of all the Valar?" hissed Makalaure, coming over and glaring up at Maedhros. "You are going to tell me what is going on, and explain why I should trust you with that sword you're carrying."

Maedhros tensed, but didn't move to stop him. "Go ahead and take it if you want, I'll not be using it on anyone," he said. He didn't think his father would actually kill him… and if he did, it wasn't as if Mandos was likely to compete with Angband when he hadn't even killed anyone this time round. "You'll notice I didn't use it just now. I also have a dagger in my left boot. You can take that too if you want."

"This isn't the time for jokes," snapped Makalaure. He lowered his voice: "Did you really foresee Father swear an oath calling on Eru to damn us all to eternal darkness if we failed to retake the Silmarils?" His eyes pleaded for this not to be true.

"I did," said Maedhros. "Do you honestly think I would have begged him on my knees not to if I hadn't? Let alone bloodied his nose when he ignored me. Eru doesn't want us to swear it, and said he won't hold us to it if we do."

"You were right about the Trees," said Makalaure, obviously struggling to reconcile all this with his image of his father. "You saw Eru?!"

"How do you think I know all this when, as Finwe pointed out, I don't get visions?" Maedhros sighed. "I should have told you all this from the beginning, shouldn't I?"

"I'm not sure I would have believed you before I'd seen some of them come to pass before my eyes," said Makalaure. He sighed. "Keep the sword. Just don't use it, or look like you're about to."

Maedhros nodded. "Thank you."

Behind them, Feanaro had gotten to his feet, and was loudly insisting that while he had every intention of fighting Moringotto, he would never damn them to eternal darkness, not least because they wouldn't fail of their object.

"You will if you take that Oath and try to keep it," yelled Maedhros, wondering if his father would ever speak to him again after this. At least Findekano understood, and Makalaure was starting to. "It will wreck havoc on everything we try and do because getting anyone else to cooperate with us will be like pulling eyeteeth. Just go fight Moringotto, and lay off that bloody Oath."

"Get him out of here, and make sure he stays away and silent." demanded Feanaro.

Maedhros allowed Carnistir to pull him away and out of the square, figuring that everybody knew where he stood by now. It also got Carnistir's temper out of the square, which wasn't a bad thing.

The two brothers looked at each other, standing in the deserted street just outside the square of the Mindon. Neither found anything to say, and after a while they shifted to watching the stars wheel by overhead, clear and cold and far above the schemes of the Noldor below.

That brought thoughts of Earendil, Vingilot and a silmaril. Though maybe… having refused the Oath, the Gil-Estel would be a sign of hope for him too, this time around. He'd changed things, all right. But would it be enough? What was Feanaro doing, and saying, even now in the square behind him?

The babble of voices and what sounded like people trying to shout over each other reached him, but he could not be certain what they said.

* * *

They were interrupted from their stargazing by the breakup of the meeting hours later. People began to stream past them. "What is happening?" asked Maedhros. "What are we going to do?"

"We're to assemble in the square two days from now with food, weapons and all our gear," said the elf, before vanishing into the gloom.

"So we are leaving," said Maedhros softly. Just so long as his brothers hadn't sworn any oaths…

"Nobody can resist father for long when he sets his mind to something," said Carnistir.

"Even Nolofinwe?" asked Maedhros.

"Nolofinwe's a pain," said Carnistir.

Maedhros snorted softly. He'd figured out long ago that part of the reason Feanaro hated his brother so much was that Nolofinwe was too stubborn and strong-willed to be cowed or stampeded when he disagreed. Finwe might be stubborn, but his guilt made him easy for Feanaro to manipulate, and his sons he could overawe or intimidate on the rare occasion when genuine respect or covert manipulation didn't work.

The first of the House of Finwe Maedhros saw was Artanis. She stopped and looked up at him. "We really must talk about what you saw in those visions of yours," she said. "But for now, I need to go pack. See you tomorrow!" with that, she headed off down the street, followed by her two of her brothers.

Findarato stopped to talk. "Did you see Middle-earth?" he asked. "What is it like?"

"Large and varied," said Maedhros. "The region Moringotto has fled to is icy mountains. South of it is a great plain, then there are mountains, forests, lakes, and a huge river called Sirion. We won't be alone there either. Olwe's brother Elwe rules a kingdom, and there are lots of scattered small peoples outside it. Also some non-elven peoples."

Findarato paled. "And they don't have the Valar to protect them. Are they in great danger?"

"The ones outside Doriath, yes. There were battles fought even before we got there, and the elves did not come off well."

Findarato nodded, his face set. "Perhaps this wild-goose chase of Feanaro's shall be worth it after all, then," he said.

"It does have some redeeming features beyond causing trouble for Moringotto, yes," Maedhros agreed, feeling suddenly awkward. He hadn't been anything but a menace to the Sindar for how many decades before his death? For that matter… how long was it since he'd really thought or cared about anyone but the Noldor? Mandos' Doom! There were Noldor at Sirion who he'd slain, probably without knowing or caring which ones were not merely elves but the very people whom he had once, however briefly, been High King of? He'd led his followers to their own deaths for fear of his family's damnation, which he had only succeeded in winding tighter around them. How long was it since he'd cared about anyone but his brothers and himself?

"Maitimo, what's the matter? You're white as a sheet," said Findarato.

Maedhros opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Leave him alone." said Carnistir.

"The price will be very high," Maedhros finally said. "It's not his fault, Carnistir. Tell me, Findarato, did my Father or any of my brothers swear any oaths against Moringotto?"

"No," said Findarato. "Feanaro made a lot of noise, but finally settled for saying that oath or none he would chase Moringotto to the ends of the earth until he destroyed him and recovered the Silmarils, or died trying."

"Praise Eru," whispered Maedhros. "It worked, it actually worked!" With that, he burst into tears, which completely shocked himself. How long had it been since he'd wept in front of anyone but Makalaure or Findekano?

The others, and some passers-by were looking at him as if he'd grown a second head, but he was too happy to care.


	14. Unfinished Business

It was a few minutes after that when the rest of House Feanaro arrived. Feanaro looked a sight, with his face and clothing still bloody from Maedhros' fist. His eyes narrowed as he looked on his eldest son and heir. But all he said was "Follow me."

So they left Findarato behind them, heading for the outer walls of the city where Feanaro's people were making an encampment, as he no longer trusted the city his brother had ruled. It was only when they were inside the large central pavilion Maedhros remembered so vividly from the first trip to Middle-earth, that Feanaro turned on him.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" he demanded, glaring up at his eldest son. "Care to explain why you wrecked my very carefully-crafted plans by punching me in the face in front of the entire Noldor population? Luckily for you, the Valar hate me too much to care, but you'd better have a damn good reason." He noticed the wide-eyed brothers. "The rest of you, out!" He made a shooing gesture with one hand. They shood.

"You were about to set in motion a series of terrible events that could not be undone, and would lead to you and all of your sons damning themselves in pursuit of that oath," said Maedhros. "Trying to keep it will kill you, the Ambarussa, Curvo, Tyelko, and Moryo, and will kill most of those who trust in you. It will also kill a lot of people who simply had the bad luck to be in our way, and will make the name of Feanor hated throughout Beleriand as being synonymous with the slaying of kin by kin, rather than with genius and power. Is that what you want?"

"Is this from that vision you had?"

"Yes, the same ones that told me what Moringotto was about to do to the Trees. I saw a lot of the future, and it was terrible."

"Really," said Feanaro, drawing the word out slightly. "Yet I swore no oath. Where does that leave your precious vision?"

"It means events are diverging from what I foresaw, and as they diverge more the visions will become less relevant. It's a good change, father. Whatever you do, don't swear that damning Oath."

"I am not convinced. Show me your vision."

Maedhros froze. He didn't do osanwe. Not after…

"I won't stand for being made a fool of." said Feanaro, his hands clenching. "Either show me, or shut up about your visions."

Maedhros swallowed, and hesitated. This was not going to be pleasant, not for either of them. Yet if it was the only way to get Feanaro to believe him… on Feanaro's head be the consequences.

"Go ahead," said Maedhros. "I'll try and get my barriers down." Feanaro looked a little confused at this, but nodded.

Maedhros did try to lower his shields, but the second his Father's mind brushed his they sprang right back up again.

Feanaro rubbed his forehead and winced. "Again." he said. The same thing happened again the next time. The third time, Feanaro smashed through half-there shields.

And everything went to hell. Literally, with Maedhros struggling to remember that the image of Moringotto's face thrown into sharp relief by the Silmarils he was seeing couldn't possibly be real, and nor was the pain. He threw everything he had into throwing his shields back up.

After what seemed like an eternity but probably wasn't, Maedhros found himself kneeling on the rug with a splitting headache. At an odd sound he looked up, squinting, just in time to see his father vomit all over the floor a couple of feet away. They both back away from it, looking rather green.

"Sorry," said Maedhros. "I did not mean that to happen."

"What was that?" Feanaro asked. "That wasn't like any vision I have ever seen. Moringotto, what did he do to you?" His voice cracked.

"I…" Maedhros swallowed and looked away. "I got captured. It was bad. This is why I don't do osanwe anymore."

"I don't blame you for not wanting to go to Middle-earth, and I won't try to stop you from staying," said Feanaro, still looking ill.

Maedhros started, but answered "I'm going!"

"Why?" asked Feanaro, now looking completely confused.

"I don't belong in Valinor now, if I ever truly did," said Maedhros. "After Findekano rescued me," here Feanaro's eyes widened, "I relearned how to fight with my left hand. I am a warrior, and a warlord, and I'm good at it. Better at it than anything I do here, except maybe dancing," Maedhros snorted. "The ability to fight and defend yourself and others in Beleriand is the difference between life and death for a leader and those who follow him. Besides… do you know who is leading the elves of Beleriand? I do. Can you speak to them in their own language? I can. Do you know who Moringotto's lieutenants are, and what their strengths and weaknesses are? Do you know where his fortress of Angband is, what forms the bulk of his armies, and his typical attack plans? I do. You need me, the Noldor need me."

"How do you know all this?" asked Feanaro. "No, I believe you, but this is beyond any single vision or vision cascade I have ever heard of!"

"Eru. He spoke to me, and-" Maedhros decided that since he actually had his father's full attention right now, and Feanaro was always far too good at finding all the holes in half-truths, he'd tell him the whole thing. "he sent my fea back in time from several yeni into the future, with memories of that entire time and orders to try and fix my mistakes."

Feanaro shook his head. "Valar. I would have said that was impossible, and yet-" he smiled suddenly. It wasn't a nice smile. "So where has Moringotto gone to ground, then?" he asked.

"The far northwest of Middle-earth, in a fortress called Angamando, though in Sindarin it is Angband. It is underground, beneath a very tall mountain range, and no power of elves, dwarves or men combined ever managed to take it. It took an expedition from Valinor headed by Eonwe to do that, but they didn't turn up until almost all of us were dead anyway."

Feanaro frowned, looking like he wanted to argue but didn't have what he needed to do so yet. "In that case, how did Findekano manage to rescue you?"

"Moringotto had hung me by one hand from one of the Thangorodrim. They're gate towers, but mountain-tall. I think the idea was that if anyone was mad enough to come looking for me, they would see me but be unable to reach me. He didn't expect Findekano to have an eagle of Manwe come and help Findekano get to me."

"Where was I while this was happening?" asked Feanaro. "And your brothers?"

"You were dead by then, after having attacked Moringotto's Valaraukar rearguard– er. Evil maiar - all by yourself because you'd outdistanced your army. Please don't do that," said Maedhros. "As for my brothers, there was a significant time between when he took me captive and when he hung me outside as a taunt. I wasn't in a place from which I could be rescued, and they gave me up for dead, never realizing I had been moved to somewhere slightly more accessible later."

"Findekano didn't arrive in Middle-earth until after that time was over, and he wasn't willing to give up on me without trying to find me himself." Maedhros glossed over the fact that his brother's search-and-rescue attempt had been half-hearted at best. They'd completely lost confidence after losing two High Kings in one week, and he would not have been hanging on the wall for them to find if they had gotten that far. There was no point in having Feanaro angry at Makalaure for something he hadn't done and wasn't going to need to do in this world.

Feanaro scowled, and moved to sit next to him and embrace him tightly. Maedhros allowed the embrace, hoping it meant his father would stick around without retreating into the madness of vengeance again for a while. If only he could make his father truly think, for once. "You should never have had to endure that." Feanaro said. "How long… were you there?"

"About thirty years of the sun – a little under a fifth of a yeni." said Maedhros. Feanaro stared at his son in horror, then snarled,"I'll make that vile piece of filth regret he ever entered Arda!"

"I'll help, and gladly, but we need to plan this out in advance," said Maedhros. "How are we going to get to Middle-earth?"

"Talk the Teleri into joining us," said Feanaro.

"That is going to be a lot harder than you think," said Maedhros.

* * *

A/N: A couple of people have asked why I chose Maedhros as the time-traveller. I picked Maedhros for three reasons 1) he'd done some very bad things but I think he was right on the edge of repenting and would likely make different decisions a second time 2) he was powerful enough to have some impact on events but not powerful enough that there would be no drama or suspense (if I sent back a repentant Feanor from the end of time, the story would be over rather quickly), and 3) Tolkien made some comment in the Histories of Middle-earth that I read years ago that seemed to say that people who commit suicide would not be accepted to Mandos (or would they end up in the void or was it simply would never be reimbodied? I'm not sure)

That bothered me, since it wasn't said about those guilty of murder, and I thought that if an 80% of the way to repenting Maedhros were to end up in the void with Beleriand newly sunk at the hands of a maia-led, Valar-sanctioned army, there's a possibility Eru just might take major action. I understand the view that suicide is throwing God's gift back in his face and is therefore a terrible thing to do, but it tends to be done when in such emotional pain that I'm far from sure that is what is going on for most people who do it.

So I had Eru take pity on him, at the same time as correcting his misconceptions and offering him a chance to serve. It isn't an easy out for him, since no matter what he manages to change, he's going to have to exist with his horrific memories for the rest of time, as the only person who has experienced that timeline. And if he fails… he will carry that knowledge for rest of time as well.

In the non-AU version of what I think is happening, I assume he's in Mandos along with the rest of his family.


End file.
